


In Pieces

by wordslinger



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2429429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinger/pseuds/wordslinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She guarded his body, and he guarded her heart.</p>
<p>A Riza-centric fic, with a splash of Roy. Mostly canon, deviations near the end extending past the original material.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've tried to fill in some of Riza's blanks in the Brotherhood/manga timeline. The most interesting part of the Royai dynamic, to me, is how she is outwardly Roy's bodyguard, but I think it's pretty clear that behind closed doors he holds her together. He's the only one who knows about her tattoo, difficult childhood, and what her time in Ishval cost her. Plus I'm sure he feels super guilty about literally EVERYTHING.
> 
> The FMA wiki states that it's unclear whether the tattoo on her back was done with/without Riza's consent. Here's my two cents: there's no way that could ever be consensual. She was afraid of her father and their relationship was strained, at best. How could she have ever said no? Berthold Hawkeye was a known madman and recluse. And even if she "agreed" it wouldn't have been because she wanted it, but most likely because abuse victims usually choose the path of least resistance when confronted by their abuser. When that abuser is a parent, the horror of it is amplified and choices become less and less real.
> 
> I can't really get behind a "young Royai" ship because I just don't see it, and the age difference kind of creeps me out. Berthold would have never allowed such a thing, and would have sent Roy packing if he'd even gotten a whiff of it. The body language in the anime scene (FMA:B) where Riza reveals her back to him, and the funeral shortly before did not indicate a previous romantic relationship. Or really any kind of deep friendship. I actually doubt Riza spent much time at home at all as a child and would have looked for any excuse to make herself scarce. Her father having an apprentice (distraction) must have been such a relief. Just my opinion.
> 
> At this point I can't say how many chapters will be included. This isn't a heavy plot fic. More of a character exploration. Just the good bits ;)

**_Thank you so much to[xserpx](http://xserpx.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for giving me a much needed canon check on this. Without her, I think this fic wouldn't have made it past the "ideas I'll never finish because I have no friends in this fandom" stage._ **

* * *

 

 

**_1 9 0 5_ **

            Relief overwhelmed her. It was finally over. After all the years of wondering what sort of madness would come next, it was over. Her father was dead, and Riza felt lighter. For the rest of her life she’d carry the heavy secrets of his research, but at least it was _her_ life. She had a future. She had _choices_.

            At the modest funeral she was startled by how much Roy had grown up. Of course, Riza knew she’d grown, as well, but Roy appeared all at once a dashing young soldier, and the studious boy who’d spent years hunched over her father’s books as his apprentice. With idealistic fervor, he spoke of a world made better by alchemy and the military; she couldn’t help but be swept away.

            She’d miscalculated his reaction to the tattoo. Riza’d had a year to come to terms with the markings, and manner in which they’d been made. After the scabs had healed and the bandages removed, she’d put the whole experience in a box, and not touched it since. Her father slipped into a frightening passivity after its completion, and Riza had spent the following _two_ semesters at school without a holiday.

            When she slid her blouse from her shoulders and revealed the array, Riza could feel the anger emanating from Roy. He pulsed with it.

            “I always knew the old man was cruel, Riza, but _gods_ ,” he breathed. “This… this is… _I’m so sorry_.” The guilty sorrow in his voice stung her. She didn’t want his pity. She wanted his promise that he’d make it all worth something.

            “What’s done is done, Roy. He’s dead.” She kept her eyes on the wall in front of her. “Can you decipher the array? Please tell me you meant everything you said before.”

            His fingers were cool on her back as they traced the lines, and arcs of the tattoo. She felt his breath on her skin, and stood in silence as he inspected the last works of Berthold Hawkeye. The yellow glow of the lamp was the only light left in the room when Riza felt Roy gently drape her blouse back over her shoulders. Quickly buttoning it closed, she turned to him.

            Roy stared at the wood planked floor; his expression reminiscent of the one she remembered when he’d been learning a particularly difficult alchemic subject. “The lettering is very small, and some of these symbols I’ve never seen before. The things he held back from me…” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and finally leveled his gaze. “I’ll need to make a copy-“

            She cut him off, “No.”

            Their eyes locked, and a wordless back and forth ensued. After a long moment, Roy sighed and nodded. No copies. Not ever.

            “I’ll… Riza this is not going to be something I can pick up in an afternoon. I need to study the array. There’re so many notes, and it’ll take some time. Are you comfortable with that?”

            She nodded. This was her choice. She could not control the tattoo’s existence, but she had to make it all mean something. Otherwise, her entire childhood was… _what?_ The madness had to be the means to a better end. _It had to._

For the first time, and certainly not the last, Riza Hawkeye trusted Roy Mustang completely.

 

**_1 9 0 8_ **

            When the city shuddered, and exploded in flame, Riza knew. In her heart, she _knew_ without a doubt it was Roy, or _Major Mustang_ as they called him now. She wanted to be angry with him, to feel betrayed. He was using the secrets etched in her back to commit genocide. The very secrets he’d _promised_ to use only to help people.

            She couldn’t hate him, though. Not any more than she could hate herself. Wasn’t she using her honed skills to murder innocents, as well? Riza made no excuses; she knew every time she focused her eyes down the scope of her rifle, someone would die. Someone who’d done nothing more criminal than being born Ishvalan.

            Worst of all, was that her father had been right. The military had done exactly as Master Hawkeye predicted when presented with a weapon like Roy. He was nothing more than a gun in a holster. At least, Riza thought bitterly, he didn’t have to see the faces of everyone he killed. That was _her_ penance.

 

**_1 9 0 9_ **

            Riza trembled. Memories of the night her father entered her room holding a nearly burned down candle clouded her mind. The wild resolve on his face had struck her with a helpless terror she’d hoped to never feel again.

            When Roy touched her, finally, she flinched. He didn’t ask her if she was sure, he’d understood the hardness in her gaze. The ferocity in her demand hadn’t left him room to say no. Even if she didn’t blame him for what he’d done with his flames, she couldn’t- _wouldn’t_ allow anyone else to wield such a power. And _damn it_ he would make sure of it.

            “Here,” he whispered as his finger grazed the markings on her shoulder blade, “and here.” His touch dipped lower and traced the skin of her lower back. “I can destroy these sections, and the rest will be indecipherable. I’ll have to go deep to be sure it’s covered with scar tissue.”

            She didn’t open her eyes until he stepped around her. His face was even more terrible in the dim light of the tent, but the concerned intensity she found there was unexpected. Riza’s experience with determined men had left her valuing her own logic and level-headedness more than any other survival tool, but Roy was different. He wanted nothing from her she wasn’t willing to give. Even now she still couldn’t regret showing him her secrets. He was a good man, and it had been her _choice_.

            His hands cupped her shoulders, and he didn’t disguise his sadness as he brought her into a tight embrace. She turned her face into his neck, it was a small indulgence but she would take it. When he pulled away, and their eyes met she foolishly wanted to kiss him. Perhaps any other man, and any other woman would be allowed such things.

            His thumbs caressed her cheeks, and he touched his forehead to hers. “Riza,” Roy whispered hoarsely, his lips hovering dangerously close.

            Tears stung her eyes, and, “Please,” was all she could choke out. He had to burn her _now_. If he didn’t, they’d both lose their nerve. Roy hadn’t let her go, but instead threaded his fingers through her hair, and pressed his lips to her cheek. They lingered, and Riza felt a thousand unspoken words in a single breath.

            It was the memory of Roy’s kiss that kept her from screaming.


	2. Chapter 2

**_1 9 1 0_ **

            They circled one another like oppositely polarized magnets. Always close, but never fully attaching. A brush of his arm as they walked side by side down a hallway or the way his hand strayed too close to hers as she laid his paperwork out for him made her heart race. Anyone who might have witnessed these things wouldn’t have thought twice about it. As Lieutenant Colonel Mustang’s personal adjutant it was her job to be at his side.

            Privately, she saw his subtle gestures for what they were, and knew he also understood why she took her time smoothing his collar, and decorations before important meetings. These unvoiced expressions of affection that passed between them were excruciating. Neither willing to cross the line, yet both remained unwilling to step back from it.

            Riza knew she loved him, and she also knew it didn’t matter. They had a plan, deep wrongs to right, justice to serve, and so many lost lives to atone for. None of that included getting sidetracked. She’d have to be content with the way his dark eyes followed her around a room, knowing it would be the most intimate touch he could ever give her, and she tried desperately not to think of the day when it wouldn’t be enough anymore.

            In a month’s time they would be visiting a small town in the countryside to see about a young alchemist. Days alone with the Colonel would be complicated, but Riza had to get out of East City. She needed some air.

 

**_1 9 1 1_ **

            Brushing her hair was new. She’d decided she liked it. Berthold Hawkeye kept his daughter’s hair short out of neglectful necessity. He couldn’t be bothered with maintaining a young girl’s mop. Riza never questioned this until she started taking university courses and envied her classmates’ longer styles.

            The first attempt she’d made at growing it out was destroyed the night her father left his mark on the world using her back as a canvas. He’d cut it all off in frustration, and despite no longer being a small child, she could only sob uselessly. Her fear of ruining his magnum opus, and further inciting his madness kept her still during the hours he’d spent carving and etching.

            Looking back served no purpose, though, and memories only had the power she allowed them. Riza _chose_ to enjoy her longer hair. She would be a ridiculous liar if she didn’t admit the way the Colonel brushed a falling strand from her eye gave her a week’s worth of chills, and she was glad a little girl in Resembool had opened her heart to such a drastic change.

            It was the awkward in-between length that had pieces of her ponytail slipping free during evening runs though the park. Bobby pins could hold down the fort during office hours, but they just couldn’t keep up with Riza Hawkeye’s sexual frustration. She wasn’t a virgin, and she knew exactly what she was missing. So she ran. And fired her weapons at dummies. And organized the office with an efficiency that would shame the Fuhrer himself. Really, she _was_ trying to keep her distance. But sometimes, on the days when he seemed to be right in her shadow… she’d break. And Riza would touch him.

            The previous week she’d taken his hand and allowed him to thread their fingers together. Just for a moment his skin was pressed against hers, and it had been _electric_. _Yesterday_ , though, yesterday had been her greatest moment of weakness. But he’d been so _close_ , and she _honestly_ hadn’t seen him behind her. Utterly unable to stop herself she’d leaned into him, and touched his face. She saw all her fears and hesitance reflected back at her in his eyes, and knew she wasn’t alone in her struggle of the heart. For the second time in her life, Riza wanted to weep with loss and grief for kisses that could never happen.

            She tallied in her head the second night in a row of running the equivalent of fifteen city blocks. Both ways. She was halfway down the hall that housed her apartment when she noticed the Colonel leaning casually against her front door. She saw right through the façade of nonchalance. His hands were in his pockets, and that meant he was nervous. Riza stopped in front of him, and met his eyes squarely.

            “Colonel.”

            “Lieutenant.” He stepped aside, and waited for her to unlock the door.

            Riza knew they were at the line again. She could tell him to go, and had no doubt that he would. Without questions or explanations. But how many times would he come back? And did she really _want_ him to go? He was _right there_ at her door, and all she had to do was let him in.

            She made her choice, and as soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Roy was in her personal space. They’d never allowed moments such as these before, and he seemed unsure how to proceed. Riza fisted handfuls of his shirt, tilted her head up, and kissed him with years of pent up feeling. She couldn’t keep the desperate whimpers from escaping her throat when his tongue slid along her bottom lip. His quiet moan of pleasure resonated through every inch of her body.

            His hand slid beneath the hem of her t-shirt, and Riza’s skin prickled with desire. Kissing Roy was nothing like she’d imagined. It was _so much better_. He held her flush against his body, and the lines of demarcation between them fizzled. There would be no going back.

 

**_1 9 1 3_ **

            The dress was perfect, and Riza knew she looked perfect in it. A shame that she had to wear it as Elizabeth, and on Lieutenant Havoc’s arm instead of the Colonel’s, but such laments always lead to the same ultimatum: she could have Roy in secret or not at all. She chose the former.

            Underneath the floor-length gown, Lieutenant Hawkeye was armed as much as she could be considering how the shape of it hugged her body. She’d made sure Havoc knew to wear a rear holster under his suit top for her to have as back up just in case there was an incident.

            With the exception of an overly aggressive bar patron whose advances had Riza reaching around Havoc’s waist for her handgun, the evening was uneventful. Her partner had taken the hint and shoved the drunken man away before he compromised their stakeout. Despite his insufferably flirtatious personality, Havoc excelled in the field, and she never minded working with him.

            It felt wrong going home to take the gorgeous dress off _herself_ , and after only a few hours. Havoc was a gentleman, though, and called her a cab before leaving to prowl the city for a date. Unlike her, he didn’t have an intensely emotional, and extremely covert relationship with a superior officer eating away at his soul. He wouldn’t be alone in his bed tonight. _Unlike her_.

            “Call for a cab?” A familiar voice broke into her disappointed musings. Roy stood on the curb beside his own car.

            “Havoc is a better liar than I gave him credit for.” Riza answered quietly. She’d analyze that later. Havoc _knew._

            “He said it would be a damn crime to waste that dress on a mission,” Roy grinned and crossed the sidewalk. “And that I should come down and keep it company.” He stood so close to her she could hardly breathe for the predatory glint in his eye. His touch was warm through the silk of her dress; his fingers ghosted down the side of her breast to her waist. He pulled her against him, and whispered, “He was right.”

            The Colonel’s lips pressed against her neck, kissing her softly, and causing every tiny hair on her body to stand at attention. Riza’s breath hitched, and she was frozen with an intoxicating mix of fear and _want_. They were in _public_. She was horrified at how little that seemed to matter when he was touching her. This was dangerous. And stupid. _And everything she needed._

            He pulled back, and looked down at her. She should push him away. She should separate their bodies, and put about five feet of distance between them. _At least._ She shouldn’t even let him drive her home. This was absurd.

            Instead she let him kiss her.

            When the dress was in a wrinkled heap on her bedroom floor, and Roy slept soundly by her side, Riza made a mental note to thank Havoc for the cab ride. Maybe with donuts, the man was an unapologetic lover of pastry. Absently, she ran her fingers through the Colonel’s hair and wondered who else knew about them. Surely they weren’t so obvious that anyone outside their team had noticed.

            Riza wouldn’t ever forget what it had been like for him to publically kiss her on the sidewalk. Returning his kisses and staking her own claim on him was not something she ever thought to be able to do. Not surprisingly, her desire for it wasn’t sated. And _that,_ she scolded herself, was the most dangerous part.

 

**_1 9 1 4_ **

            Riza felt his eyes on her, but she couldn’t look at him. Memories of a time when her father’s attention was all she’d wanted swirled viciously around her, slicing and cutting. Nina Tucker had paid a steep, and terrible price for her father’s research just as she herself had done so many years before. Images of crying Ishvalan children echoed in her head like shots fired. _Why_ was it _always_ the children who suffered the most?

            The Colonel’s hand on her elbow brought her back to the present. Tearing her eyes away from the talking chimera, Riza focused on the shoulder of his uniform. Eye contact would be too much. Not here. Not now.

            “Lieutenant, the MP’s have arrived.” His voice was professional, but trepidation seeped through. She’d never wanted to reveal the extent of her father’s madness, and the details of _that night_. Her reaction to the crime scene probably confirmed every last suspicion he’d had, and Riza found herself grateful for one less secret between them without ever having to speak a single gruesome word.

            “Yes, sir,” she murmured, and followed him from the house.

            The shower spray was as hot as she could stand. Streams of scalding water aggravated the scar tissue on her back, but still felt better than _anything_ else. The pain was meant to be a needling reminder that she was _free_ , but it wasn’t enough. Seeing the Tucker house had set her back what felt like years. She thought she’d moved on from helplessness. Riza hated the way her feet had been nailed to the floor, and despised her own lungs for refusing to fill with air. Her traitorous heart had pounded erratically as a cold sweat beaded on her neck. _Helpless._

            Tears were incredibly unhelpful. Poets could chatter on that they cleansed the body of toxic emotions, but Riza knew quite a lot about tears, and their prettily spun words were all wrong. One could expend millions of drops, and still feel so full of poison that every breath they took polluted the air.

            He’d entered her apartment noiselessly, and when he switched off the water a rush of cold air invaded the bathroom. She felt his palm flatten over the most ruined part of her back. Riza did not protest his touch or the towel he wrapped around her. They never spoke about the tattoo or the scars; it was a closet door best kept closed. He knew she wanted it covered, and never pushed. Similarly, Roy preferred not to touch her with his ignition gloves. She held possession of their storage container, but Havoc handled the Colonel’s gloves when possible. So many rules they’d written without ever discussing any of them.

            “I need you,” she whispered into his chest as she leaned into him.

            Roy couldn’t stay on task during work hours or remember a schedule to save his life, but his lovemaking was ever thorough. He gripped her hard enough for her to _know_ he was there, and never let her drift. “Don’t go, Riza,” he’d whisper on nights such as this.

            He kissed her long after they were spent, and Riza felt the vestiges of the day finally leave her in peace. The memories would be back, of course, but it all seemed very far away when she was tangled up with Roy. She wouldn’t think of the uncertain future or the turbulent past, only the now where she felt _safe_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story will go slightly AU by the end of this chapter. This is because the manga/anime had to end at some point, and I can't just let it go. I'm choosing to disregard some of the implied things from Winry's photo board simply because I didn't like them. Not to worry, though. No one is growing a second head or anything.

**_1 9 1 5_ **

            Sparks and flashes exploded across the Central City skyline, and reflected in her wine glass. She’d chosen a heady red that nearly brought her to tears with its bitterness. Riza tried to make the decision _not_ to miss Roy. Not on the New Year, it was entirely too contrite.

            Sighing heavily, she flaked a bit of frost from the kitchen windowpane with her fingernail, and acquiesced. She _did_ miss him. Even when they’d been meeting in secret, at least she’d _had_ him. Things were different now under the thumb of the Fuhrer. Riza felt like every move she made was seen and cataloged by Pride. Getting a message to the Colonel about the childlike homunculus had been difficult enough; working out a rendezvous would have been impossibly risky.

            Abandoning her wine glass in the sink to prepare for bed, Riza flipped off the kitchen light. A scuffling on the fire escape had her reaching silently into the junk drawer for a hidden handgun. She took no chances these days.

            With her heart threatening to pound right out of her chest, Riza stood in the shadows and watched silently as a figure slid her kitchen window open, and gracelessly entered her home. She let the click of her weapon do the talking for her.

            The figure froze, and grunted softly. “Riza, _please_ don’t shoot me.”

            Roy grimaced crookedly up at her from the floor. He was clutching the side of his torso that held the lingering injury from his near-fatal encounter with Lust. Tumbling through the windowpane had probably aggravated it.

            The gun was quietly returned to its hiding place amongst the matches and takeout menus. Riza knelt beside the Colonel, brushing his too-long hair from his eyes, and whispered, “You shouldn’t have come.”

            Instead of kicking him out Riza helped him stand and remove his coat.

            “I’m not sorry,” he stated plainly, shoving his hands into his pockets. Roy’s civilian clothes were disheveled, and his pant leg was streaked with dirt from the climb up her fire escape.

            “Have you been drinking?” It was a ridiculous question. Of course he’d been drinking. Since Ishval, Roy had always been something of a functioning alcoholic. No one would be cutting him off now, and Riza regretted asking.

            “It puts me to sleep. And I missed you.” The truth was painfully clear in the bags under his eyes. He drank far too much, and slept entirely too little.

            Riza wrapped her arms around him. “I’m not sorry either. Come to bed, you’re tired.”

            Divested of his dirty clothes, Roy lay next to her running his fingers through her hair. Neither spoke, both enjoying the comfortable silence of one another’s company. Riza pressed a gentle kiss to his chest, and hummed softly when he pulled her closer. The old relief of being in his arms settled over her.

            In a barely audible breath she whispered, “I love you.”

            “You shouldn’t. I don’t deserve it.”

            “Just let me love you.” He would always protest, that she knew. She’d love him even if one day the bullet in the back of his head belonged to her.

            She looked up at him, and waited. His gaze was far away, though his hand in her hair never stopped. Riza was a patient woman, and eventually he met her eyes. He was always worth it.

            “I love you, too.”

            “I know.”

            Roy slept well into the early afternoon, and Riza did not consider waking him.

 

**_1 9 1 6_ **

            The Colonel was released from the hospital as an outpatient shortly after Doctor Marcoh restored his eyesight. He’d stop by her room twice a day, every day: once during his lunch hour, and again in the evenings until they kicked him out despite his declarations of rank. As much as she looked forward to his visits, they were not what she truly wanted. The situation almost felt like a return to the years when they’d kept their toes firmly behind the lines of formality.

            When Havoc strode through the door of her room instead of Roy one afternoon, Riza visibly deflated. He smiled apologetically, and pulled a chair next to the bed. His usual swagger had returned after the paralyzing spinal cord injury healed with the aid of Marcoh’s Philosopher’s Stone.

            “Sorry it’s just me today, he was dragged into a last minute meeting. And I do mean _dragged.”_ Havoc winked at her, and laughed. “Man, if looks could kill there’d be a room full of dead generals right now. He asked me to stop by. How’s life in a box treating you?”

            Riza couldn’t help but smile. Havoc had a natural charisma that tended to put everyone around him at ease.

            “I hate this room, and I hate this bed. They’re telling me at least four more days, but I’m still hoping it’ll be sooner.”

            “Well, I can definitely sympathize with that, and I promise it’ll get better.” He glanced around the room cautiously. “Think I could get away with a smoke in here?”

            “Probably not, but maybe they’ll kick us _both_ out if you’re caught,” she laughed. “What’ve you been doing with yourself now that you’re free of the military?”

            Havoc cracked the window in her room, and lit a cigarette. “Oh, not much. Just the old family business routine. It’s not so bad, and I can wear what I want.” He blew a lungful of smoke outside. “Though, the ladies are less impressed with a man out of uniform.”

            “Jean, these women you date must be idiots.”

            “Are you coming on to me, Hawkeye? Because if that’s the case, we’ll have to run all the way to Drachma together to escape the Colonel’s fireball of scorn.”

            Riza’s cheeks warmed, and she averted her eyes. “Sometimes I wish for things…” She stopped herself. She’d _chosen_ to follow Roy down this path. _Committed._ Wishing felt selfish. The mission wasn’t complete, and too much blood was still on her hands.

            The mattress dipped beneath Havoc’s weight. “I understand your guilt. I wasn’t there, but I understand. You two could leave, you know. Bradley is dead, and Grumman isn’t a bad Fuhrer. No one would blame you or stop you.”

            A tear slid down her cheek. “He won’t, and I couldn’t. His ideals of change are all I have to make amends for what I participated in, and even if I spend my whole life working towards them it’ll _still_ never be enough.”

            He didn’t know the source of her deepest guilt. The part where she’d been the one to bestow the secrets of flame alchemy upon Roy. Riza owned that decision, and would shoulder it until her death.

            “I’m sorry, Riza.” Havoc squeezed her hand, and reached across her bed to snatch her a tissue from the box on the side table.

            “Maybe this is part of our punishment.”

            “Situations can change, Hawkeye. Being confined to a wheelchair for months really put my priorities in check. The evil infesting this nation is gone, and I think the both of you could do with some rearranging.”

            Riza blotted the tears from her eyes, and smiled weakly. “Thanks for being my friend, Jean.”

            “You’re always welcome, Riza.” He squeezed her hand again as the door to her room flew open.

            “I _knew_ I smelled cigarette smoke! Mister Havoc, how many times must we have this discussion? _You simply cannot smoke inside the hospital!”_ A red-faced nurse angrily pointed towards the hallway, clearly indicating it was time for him to go.

            He left her in better shape than when he found her. As was his way. She’d never had the opportunity to discuss what she and Roy shared with anyone else. It had been strangely liberating, even if the conversation ended in tears.

 

**_1 9 1 7_ **

            “I heard an interesting rumor.”

            “Yeah?”

            Riza turned her head to face him, and even that was an effort. The air conditioning in her apartment building had been out for two days due to repairs, and the summer heat did not relent even in the dead of night. Roy was sprawled out next to her, eyes closed, wearing only crisp white military issue boxer shorts. She had no idea if his apartment was any cooler, but it was a popular residence for many high-ranking officers. They never slept there.

            “Grumman is entertaining the idea of restoring parliament,” she eyed his reaction intently.

            “That old bastard is going to beat me to everything, isn’t he?”

            She sighed. “Is that all you have to say about it? Aren’t you worried about war crimes tribunals? Surely the Ishvalans would want some form of retribution for… _people like us_.”

            Roy said nothing. Riza frowned in the darkness of her bedroom, and would have kicked him if the very _thought_ of stirring in the oppressive heat hadn’t squelched all her energy already.

            “Roy,” she persisted. “This is important. Wake up.”

            “I _am_ awake.” His eyes opened and he turned his head towards her. “And I _am_ concerned, but what can I do? We knew it was coming, and frankly, I’ll be glad to finally face it.”

             Riza wasn’t sure she shared his attitude anymore, and her fear felt like cowardice. Karma had finally come to call, and she was afraid.

            “Hey,” his voice was rough with fatigue, and his hand too warm as it encased hers. “It’s going to be okay. Regardless of what happens, we’ll face it together. It’s what we do.”

            She wanted his words to be enough, and she knew restoring Amestris to a democratic state was best for the people. Still the hard knot of fear and guilt in her chest kept her from accepting that _anything_ would be okay, _ever_.

            “I can feel the wheels in your head turning from here, Riza.” He squeezed her hand, and yawned. “Can you just imagine me kissing you stupid, because it’s really too hot to move.”

            A grateful chuckle bubbled up through her anxiety, and she squeezed his hand in return. “I could try, but I’m afraid any kisses in the future will pale in comparison to what I imagine. And that’s not fair to you is it?”

            “When your air conditioning comes back on, I’m going to show you how wrong you are.”

            “Promises, promises.”

            When the announcement was made that parliament would indeed be restored, the excitement in the air was palpable. Fuhrer Grumman wasn’t secretive about the process, and wanted everything to be transparent to all Amestrian citizens. They needed to understand their government would finally serve _them._

            A group of Ishvalan representatives arrived in early autumn to provide necessary input, and Riza made efforts to avoid them. She wasn’t trying to escape a fate she knew she deserved, but rather, she didn’t think any of them would want to see her. The minor celebrity she and the Colonel had achieved couldn’t possibly be a welcoming sight.

            Winter approached, and even as daily headlines proclaimed the reparations made by the Furher and the Office of Ishvalan Affairs an ongoing success, Riza’s heart became heavier. The Clerics had refused to participate in tribunals ending in execution for ground level soldiers and alchemists during the war, claiming that further violence would only impede progress. She was both relieved, and disappointed.

            Her work in the capital no longer held the meaning it used to, and both she and Roy seemed to fall into a monotonous routine of peacetime administrative doldrum. Riza found herself questioning everything. She hadn’t joined the military to snipe innocents, nor shuffle papers all day. Every corner she rounded in her life seemed to place her in a position she hated. Her imbedded desire to help people was clawing at her, and for the first time in years she realized she had _real_ choices again.

            Following Roy was no longer a valid excuse for staying in the military. Riza needed to break away; she had to find a real purpose. Staying in Central City would eventually drain her of every drop of resolve. This was not atonement. The first choice she would make might be a lonely one, but it was hers.

            The letter of resignation was composed in secret, and over the course of several weeks. Roy would understand. He’d have to.


	4. Chapter 4

**_T H E - I N - B E T W E E N_ **

_Dear Roy,_

_I can’t begin to explain how leaving the military has changed my life, and how I see the world. For so long I’ve been stuck in a kind of survival mode, simply reacting to everything that happened around us, and now I feel freer than I ever have. It would be a lie to say I don’t have any regrets about the years I spent by your side. I have many, but none to do with how I feel about you._

_I try not to dwell on my mistakes, as they are not welcome here. Though, sometimes at night, when all I can see is a sky full of stars, the regrets sneak in. It’s a rabbit hole I can’t seem to completely avoid. I regret allowing my father to take advantage of me, and I regret thinking it would be safe to share the dangers of flame alchemy with anyone. Please don’t think this means I blame you for the war that destroyed this region. That train left the station long before you or I ever put on a uniform. But, yes, I do wonder how things would have been if I’d never showed you my father’s research._

_Ishval is a starkly beautiful place, and despite the initial rejection of my presence here, I finally feel a sense of stability. The people have taught me much about what survival means, and shown me that it’s not simply living as best one can in the self-contained box of day-by-day existence. I’ve seen how a family should be, Roy, and I crave such closeness. What we shared together has only left me wanting more. Something honest, and open. And never secret._

_I can’t return to Central City, but I don’t know how long I will stay here. My heart isn’t in the politics anymore. I received a letter from Winry Elric last month, and I may take a train to spend some time in the countryside._

_I don’t know where my road ends, but I am eager to start moving forward again. I truly hope you have found peace, as well. Perhaps, one day, we’ll meet again. I don’t think I could ever love someone as completely as I have loved, and been loved by you._

_Forever yours,_

_Riza_

* * *

 

_Dear Roy,_

_Resembool is as beautiful as I remember it. Winry and Edward have been incredibly gracious in welcoming me to their home. There is something amazing to be said about a quiet life away from the wreckage of one’s past._

_The rebuilding of the town here has, once again, shown me that broken things need not stay broken. Perhaps they’ll never be as they were, but they can be better. I want to start over, make a home, plant things, and watch them grow._

_I miss you._

_Forever yours,_

_Riza_

**_E P I L O G U E_ **

**_1 9 2 0_ **

            Havoc’s General Store was little more than a simple stucco structure in the East. Roy, out of habit, reached up to smooth his collar only to remember he didn’t have one. Instead he ran his hand down the front of his jacket nervously.

            “Are you going to come inside or just stare at the sign all night?” Jean Havoc appeared on the covered porch with the ever-present cigarette hanging from his mouth.

            “Hey, Havoc. I’m just… adjusting.” Roy’s face was set in an awkward grin.

            “Do I still have to call you General?”

            “I’d rather you didn’t, to be honest.”

            Havoc put his cigarette out in the bucket of sand by the door, which was likely an attempt by his mother to stop the random placement of butts around the store.

            “Well, come on then, _Roy_ , and get inside. It’s already dark and I’m starving.”

            Roy followed his former compatriot into the modest building, and his stomach growled at the aromas emanating from a hidden kitchen. The Havoc family’s home and store appeared much smaller from the outside.

            Jean smirked at the sound. “Train food no good, huh? Don’t worry, Caroline is an excellent chef. She owns the café in town, and I think I’m in _love_.”

            The scene in the kitchen made Roy’s chest ache with loneliness. Havoc’s parents were arguing over sections of newspaper, Caroline was stirring a large pot of something, and laughing at the older couple’s half-serious swipes at one another. Her eyes lit up when Jean entered the room, and she smiled shyly at Roy.

            “Hey, babe, five more minutes and we can eat. Who’s your friend?” Havoc’s arm snaked around her waist, and he planted a quick kiss on her cheek.

            “Oh, just an old military buddy. Roy, this is my girl, Caroline.”

            The woman wiped her hand on a dishrag and extended it to him. “It’s lovely to meet you, Roy. Have a seat if you’re hungry!”

            Dinner was, as promised, delicious. Havoc’s parents retired to their rooms upstairs shortly after, and Roy sat alone at the cleared table while Jean said goodbye to Caroline. It had been a long time since he’d been at a dinner table or eaten in a kitchen as opposed to a mess hall. The experience left him both warmed, and emptied. As much as he would enjoy spending time with his friend, it was Riza his heart cried out for.

            Jean poked his head into the kitchen. “Hey, come with me out back. Ma gets really cranky when I smoke inside.”

            The back porch held several chairs and had a peaceful view of the watering hole the Havoc’s neighbors used to hydrate their livestock. Jean’s lighter clicking and bringing the cigarette to life was the only sound in the night, save the crickets.

            “So.” Jean broke the silence.

            “So.”

            “I never thought I’d see the day when you retired.”

            Roy looked down at his hands, suddenly wishing he were a smoker, too. “I can’t do it without her, Jean. I tried. They even promoted me, and for two years I just spun my wheels.” He leaned back in his chair and stared into the darkness. “And you know what? After everything that happened on the Promised Day, it wasn’t even me who set things right. People don’t need a Fuhrer telling them how to do the right thing. They already know, and can do it themselves.”

            “Freedom is a funny thing. Once you step off the beaten path, you never know what you’ll find.”

            “When did you become such a philosopher, Jean?” Roy side-eyed his old friend.

            “I’ve always been this poetic! I’m just more of the silent type.”

            Roy snorted. “ _Sure._ ” He wasn’t used to simple conversation that didn’t lead to procedure and paperwork. “All this time I thought my destiny was the path, and I’ve damn near ruined myself trying to stay on it. But I think...” he paused and looked up at the stars that were so much more numerous and visible than in the city. “I think my destiny is less of a path and more of a-“

            “Person?” Havoc grinned at Roy’s silence.

            “What if she’s found someone else? It’s been so long-“

            “You’re a dumbass. Riza loves you, and couldn’t let go even if you hadn’t finally seen sense and left the military. Besides, if she’d met someone new, she’d have told me.”

            Roy’s head whipped to the side. “You talk to her?” He couldn’t hide his surprise.

            “Sure do. She tells me all kinds of stuff. Her job at the new library in Resembool seems to suit her. Lots of books, and the kids down there love her.”

            He didn’t know how to respond. Roy had no idea what she’d been doing with her life since the last letter she’d sent when arriving in Resembool. It irritated him that Havoc knew more about her than he did.

            “She’s always afraid to ask the questions she really wants the answers to, though. So I just tell her.”

            “You tell her what exactly?”

            “That you’re a hard headed son of a bitch, and one day, when you pull your head out of your ass, you’ll-“

            “Thanks, Jean. I appreciate the kind word,” Roy muttered.

            “I only speak the truth, and look! Here you are! Head free of ass.” Havoc snubbed his cigarette in another conveniently placed bucket of sand. “There’s a train that leaves every morning for Resembool. You can stay as long as you want, but it won’t get any easier, my friend.”

            Roy sat out on the Havoc family’s back porch mulling his thoughts well into the night. It wasn’t until the mosquitoes began to overwhelm him, that he made his way back through the house. A lamp had been left burning in a tiny guest room on the bottom floor. He fell into the freshly made bed, fully clothed, and despite his best efforts, didn’t sleep at all.

            The library where Riza supposedly worked wasn’t large. In fact, it appeared to be not much more than a storefront. However, there was evidence of its expansion in the half-constructed addition behind it. Roy took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm his nerves, before chastising himself for being a coward, and walking through the door.

            A young woman sat at the front desk, and she smiled at him as he approached.

            “Can I help you?”

            “I’m looking for Miss Riza Hawkeye. Does she still work here?” Roy hadn’t intended for his voice to sound so pathetic, as if he were a small child searching for a beloved lost puppy.

            “She does! But I’m afraid she isn’t in today.”

            Roy’s face fell. He’d never anticipated not finding her here. “Oh. Well, thank you for your help.”

            “Anytime, sir. Is there something I can assist you with instead?”

            “No, no I don’t think so. Thanks, anyway.”

            He turned, walked out of the small building, and glanced up and down the street. Resembool had grown quite a bit since his last visit, and he had no idea where anything was located. He needed to find an inn.

            _“Colonel?!”_ a young woman’s astonished voice called to him. “Colonel Mustang?”

            Roy found himself face to face with Winry Elric. “Well, it’s not Colonel anymore. Or anything really, I’m retired.”

            “Oh, wow! I had no idea! What are you doing this far southeast? Where are you staying? You _must_ have dinner with Ed and I. We insist.” Before Roy could get a word in edgewise, he found himself being tugged down the street.

           “Well, I-“

            “Nonsense! We’d love to catch up! Is Riza expecting you?”

            Roy was silent. He didn’t know how to answer her. It was becoming all too clear how poorly planned out this trip had been.

            Winry stopped and whirled around to face him. “She doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”

            He felt his face warm, and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

            “You two are the worst, you know that?” Winry linked her arm through his and lead him through town. “Listen, I know you’re probably sick of people telling you what to do, being in the military so long and all, but you’re really an idiot and need to talk to her.”

            “Yes, so I’ve been told. My idiocy is pretty much the general consensus.”

            The activity of town faded away into slow moving countryside as Winry escorted him… home? He wasn’t sure, but he _did_ know he was terrified to ask. Roy had seen Winry chuck more than one wrench at Fullmetal, and she’d already given him the eye and called him an idiot. He felt it best to simply go along, and not ask too many questions.

            His heart started to race as they approached the Rockbell-Elric home. It hadn’t changed much, but clearly Fullmetal had been busy. The house sported a new roof, and an addition off to the side. Roy’s feet seemed to be planted in the road, and he couldn’t take one more step. Winry turned to him and smiled softly.

            “She’ll be happy to see you. I promise. Besides, it’s too late to chicken out now.”

            Somehow, he managed to put one foot in front of the other. Roy was not prepared for what he found inside the house. Not at all.

            Riza sat on the floor with a tiny Fullmetal look-a-like. He was curled in her lap as she read to him from a children’s book. His chubby finger had a strand of her hair wrapped around it, and one thumb stuck in his mouth sleepily. She seemed completely at home, and had an aura about her that was new to him.

            “Look who I found wandering the streets in town!” Winry broke into his stupor, and Riza finally looked up. She blinked several times before carefully disengaging from the drowsy toddler. Mini-Fullmetal clung to his mother’s leg, and she scooped him up. “Come on, little guy. Let’s give these two some space. Want a cookie?”

            Roy watched Riza’s eyes follow the pair from the room. When she finally met his gaze, he could see tears threatening to spill over. Books could be filled with the things he wanted to say to her, and yet all he could do was stare in silence. He reached out and touched her hair that almost reached her waist.

            “I think I like it long,” Roy whispered. Winry and Havoc were right. He was a dumbass.

            “Oh, Roy,” her laugh was choked by tears, but he couldn’t see them because she’d wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her face into his chest. “I never went anywhere you couldn’t follow.”

            “Thank you for waiting.”

            She sniffled and smiled up at him. “You’ve always been a slow learner, but I love you anyway.”

            He wiped the tears from her cheeks, and brought his lips to hers. He didn’t need anything else, but this. They were no longer a pile of broken pieces, but a new, and stronger whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've come to the end of the road, and I'm both sad and happy. Sad because I haven't enjoyed writing any other fic more than this one, and happy because I've never finished a multi-chaptered fic before in the history of the known universe. Usually I delete them after six months out of shame. In my moments of grandeur I tell myself I'll add drabbles in this universe, but I'm a known delusionary.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's read, commented, and left kudos. I truly appreciate it.


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